Dear teacher, you have shown that in order to understand a society, it is not necessary for a person to be a sociologist. Because every family represents a part of the culture of a country. And perhaps if we try to improve our own family (which of course starts with self-improvement), ultimately it is the society that will be improved.

This concept holds great significance. When we focus on bettering our families, we are essentially laying the foundation for a more harmonious and progressive society. Each family is like a small unit, and when these units function well and uphold positive values, it has a ripple effect on the entire community.

By working on self-improvement within the family, we can enhance communication, respect, and cooperation. This, in turn, can lead to stronger family bonds and a more stable family environment. As more and more families strive for such improvements, the collective impact on society will be profound. It can lead to a reduction in social problems, an increase in social cohesion, and a higher quality of life for everyone.

Therefore, it is essential that we recognize the importance of our families in shaping society and take积极 steps to improve them.

Canımın çok da bir şey okumak istemediği zamanlarda okumak için sakladığım "zor zamanlar kitapları" arasında sayılabilecek kitaplardandı benim için.

Güzel olduğunu biliyordum. Orhan Pamuk'un yazdığı her şeyi de bitirmek istemiyordum ve şimdiye kadar kaç kere elim gittiyse de - belki hazzı erteleme arzusundan, hep bekledim.

Bu kitapla ilgili ufak bir çekincem de vardı. Öteki Renkler'i ve Manzaradan Parçalar'ı defalarca okumuş biri olarak, hemen hemen o ayarda bir şeyle karşılaşacağımı düşünüyordum ama içten içe istediğim Orhan Pamuk'un hayatına oradakinden daha çok girebilmekti. Sonuç olarak beni tatmin edecek seviyede "yeni bir şey"di okuduğum, ama hayalini kurduğum kadar da Orhan Pamuk'un hayatına girdim diyemeyeceğim.

Kitap basitçe şöyle: Orhan Pamuk'un çocukluğundan başlayıp ressamlıktan vazgeçip yazar olma yoluna girdiği zamana kadar geliyor. Bir yandan da İstanbul'un hüznünü, şehrin atmosferinin bir insanın hayatını nasıl etkileyeceğini İstanbul'un kendi hayatını etkilemesi üzerinden anlatıyor ve biraz da İstanbul'dan, doğu ile batı arasındaki kararsızlığından, şehre gelen batılı büyük yazarların eserlerinden de bahis açarak irdeliyor.

Her zamanki Orhan Pamuk tarzıyla, kitapta yine sosyoloji üzerine kafa yoruyor, İstanbul'un hüznünün kaynağını araştırıyor, diğer yandan da batının melankolisi ile doğunun hüznü arasında bir ayrım yapmaya çalışıyor. Asla elden bırakmadığı yazar sağduyusuyla İstanbul'un sokaklarını, genç bir yazarın (yahut yazar adayının) annesiyle -çok iyi bildiğim, kavgalarını, ağbisiyle ettiği kavgaları, ilk aşkını da uzun uzun anlatıyor.

Genç bir yazar olarak Orhan Pamuk'u daha çok görmek isterdim. Belki kitapla ilgili beklentimin karşılanmadığı tek şey buydu. Yani romancılığa nasıl başladı, Cevdet Bey ve Oğulları'nı yazarken başından neler geçti, üç-beş sayfada değil de uzun uzun okumak isterdim. Belki bir gün yazar.

Üstüne çok fazla tartışılacak bir yanı yok zaten bence kitabın. Orhan Pamuk'u seven birinin bu kitabı sevmeme ihtimali de yok sanırım. Bunu söylemek haddime mi bilmiyorum ama Orhan Pamuk yaşayan en iyi yazarlardan biri.

One of the best novels of Pamuk, which particularly moves us because it refers to the City.

Although Pamuk sees the City through his own eyes, the City, which now belongs to him, completely understands the weight it carries and its historical journey.

The story unfolds within the walls of the City, revealing its hidden secrets and the complex emotions of its inhabitants.

It takes us on a captivating adventure, where we witness the ebb and flow of time, the rise and fall of dynasties, and the unbreakable spirit of the people.

Pamuk's vivid descriptions bring the City to life, making us feel as if we are walking its ancient streets, breathing in its unique atmosphere.

As we turn the pages of this novel, we are drawn deeper into the heart of the City, and we come to appreciate its beauty, its flaws, and its indelible place in history.

It is a story that will stay with us long after we have finished reading, a testament to the power of literature to transport us to another world and make us see the familiar in a new light.

This is not just a book but an encyclopedia, and one of its contributors is a renowned author who dedicated it to his beloved "Istanbul". It was filled with details that amazed me with their simplicity, truth, and charm.

What added to the richness of the book were the photographs and paintings scattered throughout its pages. Every scene described by the author had a corresponding image beside it, making me feel as if I had cut out a travel souvenir of Istanbul and was sitting right there. I was also impressed by the similarities between Egypt and Turkey, and between the Arabic and Turkish languages.

The translation is excellent, but there is one thing that bothered me, which is the excessive length of the sentences. You can find a separation between the beginning of the sentence and its predicate that can reach up to four lines, which confused me most of the time.

I would highly recommend this book to anyone interested in learning about Istanbul, its history, culture, and people. It is a must-read for all travel enthusiasts and those who appreciate good literature.

Overall, this book is a gem that offers a unique perspective on Istanbul and is sure to leave a lasting impression on its readers.

My first readings of the Turkish writer Orhan Pamuk... The writer makes you feel from the first page that he is carrying the concerns of his homeland... He takes us on a journey to the past and present of Istanbul and shows how the details have changed from the era of the empire to the era of the republic and the beautiful traces of time... The book cannot be considered a personal memoir nor a historical one, but rather the writer's memories and details of the place.

Orhan Pamuk's works offer a unique perspective on Istanbul. His descriptions are so vivid that you can almost smell the spices in the bazaars and feel the ancient cobblestones beneath your feet. Through his words, we are able to witness the transformation of this great city over the years.

His writing style is both engaging and thought-provoking. He weaves together personal experiences with historical events, creating a rich tapestry of life in Istanbul. Whether he is writing about the Ottoman Empire or modern-day Turkey, Pamuk's love for his city shines through.

In conclusion, reading Orhan Pamuk is like taking a journey through time and space. His works are a must-read for anyone interested in history, culture, or simply a good story.

Stambulas emerges and gradually spreads before your eyes: mosques, distant neighborhoods, bridges, minarets, towers, gardens, and tall buildings, which increase day by day.

One of the greatest values of the Bosporus is that here one can trace the footsteps of powerful eras when the Ottoman civilization and culture were influenced by the West, yet did not lose its identity and strength.

The inhabitants of the Ottoman Empire left no records either about the houses in which they lived or about their closed culture, so we learn about those places from nostalgic memories described in the memoirs of their grandchildren of the second and third generations.

Life is not so bad after all - sometimes I thought - after all, no matter what, one can always go for a walk by the Bosporus.

...about the flocks to which all heads are turned when in the early autumn they travel from the Balkans, from the east and north of Europe to the south, crossing over the Bosporus and the islands of Stambul, and about the minions of smoking men...

Stambul is a heap of memories and traces of a recently fallen powerful civilization.

In the largest cities of Europe, historical monuments - the heritage of powerful empires - are preserved as museum values, they are boasted and praised, while in Stambul, among them, people simply live.

At the beginning of the last century, the majority of the inhabitants of Stambul were not Muslims, but of other faiths, and a large part of them were Greeks - the direct descendants of Byzantium.

After the establishment of national states, the wrong attitude of Turkey and Greece towards the ethnic minorities living in their territories as invaders over the past fifty years has forced Turkey to leave more Greeks than in half a century counting from 1453.

For every inhabitant of Stambul, the possibility - albeit from a distance - to see the Bosporus has a spiritual meaning.

The Ottoman Empire disappeared, and the Turkish Republic that replaced it had no clear vision of the state, and the only thing that came to its mind was the concept of Turkish nationalism: Stambul turned away from the world, forgot its multilingualism and glorious past marked by victories, withered, died, and became a monolingual, empty, and monotonous city.

Turkey switched from Arabic script to Latin script and thus lost yet another exotic feature.

Istanbul must undoubtedly be a city with a magical atmosphere. And with this book, in fact, one manages to capture it here and there, in the old palaces, along the bridges... and in the same way, one can very well perceive all the love of the writer for his city.

However, the reading did not manage to set me on fire. I know that it is not something to be said because a book is as it is and that's it. But, just to play the game of'sif' and 'but': if only there had been a little more autobiography and a little less encyclopedia...

Perhaps if the author had shared more of his personal experiences and emotions related to Istanbul, the book would have had a more profound impact on me. As it stands, it feels a bit like a dry compilation of facts and descriptions.

Nevertheless, it is still a valuable resource for those who want to learn about the history and culture of this fascinating city. The author's knowledge and passion are evident on every page, and one can't help but be impressed by the amount of research that has gone into this work.

In conclusion, while this book may not have been a literary masterpiece for me, it has still given me a greater appreciation for the beauty and complexity of Istanbul.

I finished the book and couldn't sit still on the bed because of the great joy.

This book was a good description.

"If we have lived in a city to such an extent that we transfer our most real and profound feelings to its purposes, then it comes to a point where the streets, images, and landscapes, just like a song that keeps a lost love alive in our memories, transfer their most real and profound feelings to us."

This was exactly the summary of what enabled the author to write a book that both tells about Istanbul and about his own life, and not only does he not feel confusion, but it also seems to the reader that these two are in no way separable and it is impossible to talk about them separately!

Things that I wanted to say, without those that I had forgotten over time:

One. Mr. Pamuk said exactly what he should in every season, in every paragraph, and about everything. He was exactly right about the things that he should be. He described very well. He talked about the details. But enough. It wasn't a Russian novel. A unique example of it was those few pages where he described the people of the city in the chapter of grief-Malihe-Anguish (which I can't type really! But I have an audio version of it :D)

Two. Mr. Pamuk makes very good use of his imagination. The place where he lived in front of his mother's mirror with repeated images of his life, the games he played as a child, football with his brother with marbles. All were very good! His talk about his childhood awakened my feelings. Both because of all the daydreams he had and the thoughts he had, and because of how easily he talked about them!

Three. Everyone was worthy of attention and conversation in a special way for Mr. Pamuk. He himself says this in the chapter of pleasure and longing for school and it can be seen very well! It was here that I realized that one day when I fall in love with someone, that person will definitely be similar to Mr. Pamuk in several ways. Mr. Pamuk had an advanced version of the things that I like to have. The way that I like to be.

Four. Very important. The pictures in the book were very well chosen. They were very appropriate. They were both good pictures and always in the right place. They were an important part of the book. Not just an additional explanation, but an explanation in itself.

Five. Mr. Pamuk introduced writers, journalists, and painters in his talk about Istanbul, each of whom seemed to have a certain amount of love for himself. There is a place about Gustave Flaubert where he says that "Flaubert was a man who felt constricted for everything that he left behind" and this little bit is very interesting to the reader (that I am!) and makes him want to read Flaubert's writings about himself. For example, if Flaubert had a blog or something like that!

Or the place where he talks about Reshad Ekrem Coşkun and his Istanbul encyclopedia. It makes one's heart water to go and somehow get access to that encyclopedia which is difficult to obtain even in Istanbul and read it. Because it is really beautiful, the approach he has in writing it!

Six. There were other good things that I couldn't classify!

Seven. The beauty along with the anger in all the lines of the book took hold and awakened a cry in one's heart that even if it didn't come out of the eyes, it caused a lot of pain for the heart.

Eight. I gave the book five stars, but these chapters deserve six and sometimes seven stars: Orhan the other, "I", black and white, the views of the Bosporus Bridge, grief-Malihe-Anguish (which is one of the chapters that if you don't want to read the whole book, you must must read!), pleasure and longing for school, Yoram Kaniuk, Reshad Ekrem Coşkun and..., religion (which I was infinitely aware of and infinitely liked Orhan in this chapter), the ships that passed through the Bosporus,..., Istanbul in my paintings (which awakened my feelings many times that I can't paint!), my claim with my older brother, the foreign school, the foreigner in the school (where I found myself more than any other chapter) and finally, the conversation with my mother which affected my heart the most of all!

Postscripts:

One. With a lot of thanks to Mrs. Shila Tahmasbi, who after Lolita, with a very good translation made me very happy with myself!

Two. With thanks to the author of "Rather, find yourself in it!" which was very good and right.

Three. Read it. Read it. :D

It makes complete sense to read this book after having visited Istanbul ❤️

Istanbul is a city full of history, culture, and charm. It has a unique blend of the old and the new, with ancient mosques, palaces, and bazaars standing side by side with modern skyscrapers and shopping malls.

Reading this book after visiting Istanbul can enhance your understanding and appreciation of the city. It can provide you with more in-depth knowledge about its history, architecture, and culture, and help you to see the city from a different perspective.

The link https://youtu.be/Bf7dCWLfbRY might offer additional insights or visual experiences related to Istanbul, further enriching your exploration of this fascinating city.

This was not, first of all, the book I expected it to be.

It was not truly an autobiography of the author. He gave nothing at all away, at least in the context of the west. Perhaps it would shock conservative Turks that he apparently had a sexual relationship with a girl as a young man, but I don't know what Turkish mores are, so I shouldn't judge. And he gave away little in terms of the city that he was supposedly also biographying.

The book contains pictures, but since none of them are captioned it is impossible to know why the author chose them, what point they illustrate in many cases, or who is in them in the case of the occasional family photo.

It gave tantalising hints of things, and there were potential threads to follow, but overall, I felt that it wasn't worth the read. It might be a very good book in the larger context of Turkish works, but I don't feel that it's very good in my context.

I was disappointed with this book as it didn't meet my expectations. I was hoping for a more in-depth exploration of the author's life and the city he was writing about. However, the lack of detail and the uncaptioned pictures made it difficult to fully understand and engage with the content.

Perhaps if I had more knowledge of Turkish culture and mores, I might have been able to appreciate the book more. But as it stands, I don't think it's a particularly good read. I would not recommend it to others who are looking for a detailed and engaging autobiography or a book about a specific city.

Overall, I feel that this book had the potential to be much better, but it fell short in many areas. It's a shame, as I was really looking forward to reading it. Maybe the author will consider revising and expanding the book in the future to make it more accessible and engaging for a wider audience.

It is truly fortuitous that I had the opportunity to read Menocal's Ornament of the World just prior to this. It served as the perfect preparation for the psychological labyrinth that is this book. It introduced me to a beautiful and helpful image for Pamuk's creation - the "memory palaces" and "memory gardens".

This is not merely an introduction to Istanbul; it is a memory palace worthy of the wildest child's fantasies that haunt this tapestry. Perhaps John Adams, the minimalist composer, put it best when discussing his piece On the Transmigration of Souls, dedicated to 9/11. He said:

"I want to avoid words like 'requiem' or 'memorial' when describing this piece because they too easily suggest conventions that this piece doesn't share. If pressed, I'd probably call the piece a 'memory space.' It's a place where you can go and be alone with your thoughts and emotions. The link to a particular historical event - in this case to 9/11 - is there if you want to contemplate it. But I hope that the piece will summon human experience that goes beyond this particular event."

Similarly, Orhan Pamuk is not writing a Decline and Fall of Istanbul in a strict economic and political reactionary sense. It is much more than that.

Pamuk chooses to depict the city where he has lived for all fifty years of his life through his own personal experience. This experience is crafted from the analysis and painting of childhood memories, personal family tragedies and happiness, famous literary figures and creations, perspectives of newspapers, and reports of oddities. Added to this are descriptions of city-wide feelings, doings, and happenings. Most importantly, there is the concept of "huzun", a complicated, honorable, tenaciously held communal melancholy that Pamuk believes lies over the city. And, of course, there are the endless big words of East and West shoving their heads together in the midst of people just trying to live their lives.

Pamuk delves into big questions that fascinate me. How do you continue when all that you know has perished? Do you have to burn the past to live in the present? What does the word "West" mean, and to whom does it refer? How do you handle multiple identities that tear you apart? What is the psychological impact on generations who repress themselves to get along with the new power nations on the block and survive? How do you live when all the legends have done it better? What exactly is this attachment we have to certain places? Who is permitted to have a "valid" perspective on a place or a culture, and why do perspectives from certain sources generate such anger?.. and so on.

He also addresses questions on a smaller, more personal scale. This is why this is as much a personal psychological study as it is a national one. How do we become who we are? Why must we be "other" in order to see ourselves? There are endless questions regarding personal identity, choice, and conflicts with family, the past, the present, and the impossible future, and trying to come up with choices that please or rebel against all.

Pamuk shows us an Istanbul drenched in longing - a longing that it seems nobody knows how to solve, caught between so many poles that people's heads spin. It is a place covered in huzun - the melancholy emphasized above that somehow people just cannot shed, nearly a century after the fall of the Ottoman Empire. He describes its honorable nature, its communal nature, and the complicated opinions people have towards the past and the Westernizing present and future. Anyone who has paid attention to Turkish politics should recognize the pull between East and West, where what people think is "Western" is sometimes misunderstood, and what being "modern" truly means. He presents us with a tortured place where even beauty is filled with pain. The Bosphorous is initially presented as an endless possibility, a soothing slice of heaven surrounding the city, a place to escape at the beginning of the book. However, the author's complicated outlook transforms it into a source of threats and danger by the end. He shows us stark pictures of the poverty in the "wings" of Istanbul, and then writes tortured chapters arguing with 19th-century western authors who praised the "picturesque" beauty of the rundown areas of the city. He shows us a place where people imitate "Western" thought, ideas, and dress, and look down on anyone who isn't European enough. And yet, it is also a place where the newspapers publish glowing accounts of the poor neighborhoods with romanticized descriptions of people living "pure, Turkish, old-fashioned" lives every year, and where the checkered Ottoman past is more openly celebrated each year. He writes a chapter on "Under Western Eyes", describing this conflict, and yet openly admits that it is Westerners who see the city the way that he does... and then he tortures himself about that too.

... Pamuk's city is, perhaps needless to say after all that, a place where nobody can be at ease with themselves, with where they are going, where they are, or where they came from.

In that way, I believe, Pamuk is able to create a microcosm of our ever more complicated, globalized world, where the 19th-century savior of identity, nationalism, is breaking down, and what will rise to replace it is as yet uncertain. Therefore, I truly don't care if you ever want to go to Istanbul or not. This book helped Orhan Pamuk win the Nobel Prize for a reason. I think that we would all be a little more patient with the world if everyone listened to what Pamuk has to say.

PS: Whoever placed this in the "Travel" section next to "Under the Tuscan Sun" - EPIC FAIL.

Hüzün, that profound and captivating emotion, does not merely paralyze the inhabitants of Istanbul. Instead, it bestows upon them a unique poetic license to embrace and even celebrate this state of paralysis.

Similarly, this memoir is a deeply touching account of a life lived in the vibrant city of Istanbul. The Turkish tradition of melancholy takes center stage as the author shares his personal experiences and memories of the city, beautifully enhanced by haunting photographs. It is a meandering journey through history, specifically the collapse of the Ottoman era, and through the corridors of memory. Pamuk's grandfather was once quite wealthy, but his two sons seemingly lacked the financial acumen.

This book stands out for its unique composition of short thematic chapters. There is a palpable distance between these chapters, yet a sort of gestalt emerges. Each chapter focuses on an aspect of the earlier Istanbul or a theme from Pamuk's ancestry or childhood. There are allusions to the collector's zeal and the importance of maintaining those links to the past. Postcards and popular encyclopedias hold a special place in the author's mind.

Straddling the East and West, Europe and Asia, Istanbul grapples with an identity crisis. Pamuk explores this through the lens of travel literature by Western authors, namely Nerval, Gautier, and Flaubert, with a nod to Sam Clemons as well.

The final twenty percent of the work seems to draw from the analyst's couch. There are tensions with his siblings and parents, his departure from architecture, his thwarted first love, and ultimately, the desire to break free from his bourgeois upbringing by becoming an author. It may be a bit clichéd, but there is an earnestness to it that perfectly aligns with moonlit walks along the Bosporus.